The Hour of Dreams
by Halcyon15
Summary: Ratchet and Angela meet, and the fate of all that is real hangs in the balance
1. Chapter 1: A Visit From a Friend

**Part I  
The Hollow Heart**

* * *

Veldin

* * *

Ratchet walked down the path to his garage, sorting his mail. "Ads, ads, more ads," he grumbled, before he tossed them. He looked at the rest. One, an envelope bearing some scorch marks, stood out. He looked at the address. "Hey, it's from Angela!" he said happily. He opened it, and read.

_Dear Ratchet_,  
_I was wondering if you were going to write back, but it's nice to hear that you've let me stay at your home, while I was waiting to make some arrangements and I can't wait to see you. _

Ratchet looked at the date. "Wait, that's today!" he exclaimed. He rushed back, and looked at the entrance to his garage. Something was different. "Clank!" He shouted. When the little robot walked over, he stared at him. "What happened to my home?!"

Clank shrugged, or tried to. "I calculated the delay of our postal system, and cross-referenced some shuttle launch charts. I figured out when Angela was going to be coming, so I cleaned up."

Ratchet stared, his ears twitching. Whenever he was mildly annoyed, they did that. "Well, thanks, but, did you fix the issue with the bed?"

Clank nodded. Earlier in the month, a pair of stinkflies had crawled in, and turned the mattress into a slightly toxic sponge. Ratchet burned it, but never got around to replacing it. Obviously, Clank had.

"Okay, thanks for that. I don't supposed you figured out what went wrong with the engine?" Ratchet asked. Earlier that week, Ratchet, when testing one of his engines, it just emitted sparks and an odd blue smoke. Ratchet still couldn't figure out what was wrong.

"The compression coil is dented," Clank said matter of factly. Ratchet groaned. The compression coil was deep in the machine, and a lot of parts had to be taken apart to reach it. He sighed. Just another days work.

"Clank, tell me when Angela comes. OK?" Ratchet got his tool belt, buckled it on, and took of his shirt. This engine was known to suddenly spurt out oil, and Ratchet was a bit fond of that particular shirt.

* * *

He was elbow-deep in the machine when Angela arrived. He looked up, holding a screwdriver in his teeth. He spit it out. "Hi Angela!" he called out.

Angela waved, and then noticed what he was doing. "Is this a bad time?" she asked, "And why don't you have a shirt on?"

Ratchet was about to answer before the engine rumbled ominously. Ratchet didn't move, hoping to not set it off. When it stopped, he continued. "IT's as good a time as ever, and about the shirt, well, the engine is-" he began before the engine rumbled, and spat motor oil all over his chest. "...Problematic," he finished.

Angela laughed. "It seems so." She walked over, the slight wind causing her fur to ripple. Ratchet looked down, found the culprit, a loose oil spigot, and sealed it quickly, before going over to a small bucket filled with soapy water and a sponge.

She had a few suitcases and set them down at the garage. As Ratchet stood up, he noticed something. Before, Angela was a little taller than him. Now, it was the other way around. "Looks like I grew more than I thought," he noted. He started scrubbing with the sponge.

Angela sighed. "Nope, I shrunk," she said exasperatedly. "Some idiot in the lab thought it was funny to shrink me. When I ordered him to return me back to normal size, I lost a good three inches."

Ratchet looked at his chest. The oil was leaving a stain on the fur. "Well, it seems like you got some action, too," He grabbed a towel and dried himself off. He slipped the shirt back on. "Anyway, why are you here? All I can remember is something about buying a house."

Angela nodded. "My old apartment got destroyed. I did some looking, and it's really cheap to buy something here," she said. "Plus, it's nice to be around some friends." She smiled. "So, where can I sleep?" she asked.

Ratchet ushered her in. Passing most of the toll-covered workbenches, she stared at the Captain Quark poster. "You still have that up?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Ratchet grabbed it and pulled it off the wall. "Forgot to take it down," he stated matter-of-factly. He opened the door to his main room, occupied by a few shelves and a new, stinkfly-free bed.

Angela put her suitcases down. "If I'm sleeping here, then where are you sleeping?" she asked.

"The couch."

Angela smiled, before sitting down on it. "So, what have you been doing?"

Ratchet sighed. "Well, saving the universe a couple times, and trying to relax for a bit."

Angela smiled. "I noticed you've been working out."

Ratchet shrugged. She wasn't the only one to notice. His normally lean, wiry frame was a bit bulkier, with some bulges underneath the fur. Nothing much, but enough to stand out. "Well, you aren't the first to notice." He saw how it seemed to make her a bit uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. "So, how was the trip?"

Angela looked even more uncomfortable. "It was...eventful," she answered finally. She looked almost embarrassed by it, so Ratchet dropped the subject.

She looked at the clock. "I had a bit of jet lag, and I'm dead tired," she said. "I may just sleep."

Ratchet nodded. "Ok, and if you need anything," he said on his way out, "Just call my name."


	2. Chapter 2: Why Screams Make Bad Alarms

It's an interesting experience, waking up to a bloodcurdling scream.

Ratchet was jolted awake from a strange dream by Angela's shrill scream. He flung off the blanket and bounced off the couch. All he was wearing were some soft pants, and his chest heaved with an adrenaline rush triggered by the scream. He grabbed his wrench, and burst into her room, shouting.

Angela's scream in fright was interrupted by a sudden, brief scream of surprise. Having a bare chested, adrenaline-spiked Lombax with a deadly weapon in his hands, charging in screaming can do that to a person. Even if it is someone who save them. Angela jumped back, nearly hitting her head on the headboard.

Ratchet, looking around and noticing a lack of enemies or monsters, lowered the wrench. Angela let out an audible sigh of relief. "Sorry Ratchet."

Ratchet put down his wrench, and took a step closer. "What was that?"

Angela sighed. Ratchet sat down next to her. "I had a nightmare." Ratchet was genuinely surprised. Lombaxes rarely had nightmares. Usually, it meant something was wrong with the Lombax who had them.

He looked at her. She was wearing a grey undershirt that showed off her arms. It was soaked through in sweat. Her arms and collarbone glistened with it. Her eyes were liquid, as if she was about to cry. "Care to elaborate?" Ratchet asked.

"I'd rather not." Angela said. She looked shaken.

Ratchet nodded. "I had them too. When I was younger."

Angela sighed. "I've been having them lately. My trip here was spent in a solitary pod, because any time I fell asleep, I'd scream."

Ratchet sighed. "I get what you're going through. If you want to talk about it.." he began, but Angela cut him off.

"No I don't" she insisted. Ratchet let her be.

Ratchet sat up. "I'm going to try to get what little sleep I can. If you need me, just call." He walked out, his tail twitching.

* * *

The Veldin Post Office was surprisingly big. Ratchet didn't find that too surprising, mainly because the same building that sorted mail also had a fast food restaurant, a general store, and a bank. Anyway, it was the post office he was seeking.

Pulling the door open, Ratchet was buffeted by the spices from the restaurant. He was alone, with Clank staying home to figure out the issue with the engine, and Angela working over the Net. Either way, it was better that he was here alone. He wasn't coming on an errand, but to meet someone.

"Hey, it's my favorite fuzzball!" A voice called out. Ratchet smiled and turned.

The voice belonged to a human behind a counter. He had a mess of dark hair that hung over blue eyes full of youthful energy, and wore a wrinkled blue postal service uniform that drooped off of his thin frame. Just the guy he wanted to see.

"Hi AJ," Ratchet said cheerfully. He walked up to him. "Can I talk to you about something?" he asked.

AJ was about to respond before one of the alarms went off. "One moment," he said, before he walked behind the mail slot.

Ratchet heard some swearing, a few blows landing, and AJ came back, slightly ruffled. "Sorry, had to beat Donni to take my shift." He hopped over the desk. "So, care to grab a bite?"

Ratchet nodded, and AJ walked over, and quickly paid for two meals. He walked over to a small table, carrying a tray bearing a few fried pieces of meat, and Ratchet's seven spice soup. The fried meat was for Aj, but, although he liked it, he never knew what it was.

AJ sat down next to Ratchet. "So, tell me, what's on your mind?" he asked.

Ratchet sighed. "I had a very weird night."

AJ chuckled. "I noticed you have a lady over there. Was the night...eventful?" he asked, an eyebrow raising up.

Ratchet nodded. "In more ways that you think."

AJ leaned in. "So, tell me what happened."

Ratchet sighed. "I had an odd dream about her."

"Was it one of _those_ dreams?" Aj asked.

Ratchet shook his head. "Unless the type of dream is rather disturbing, then no."

"Did your dream have a very freaky scene involving a whisk and a megaphone?" When Ratchet shook his head, AJ leaned back smugly. "Then no, it probably wasn't too disturbing."

Ratchet shrugged. "I was looking at her through a window. Like a dirty porthole.

AJ leaned forward, interested. "Yeah, so?"

Ratchet shuddered. "She was standing in the middle of a burned down building, up to her knees in _blood_."

AJ was surprised. "And then?"

"She woke up screaming bloody murder."

AJ nodded. "I'd like to talk to her." Ratchet nodded. It was one of the reasons he wanted to talk to AJ. Besides being a mail clerk, AJ was training to be a psychologist, and was the closest thing Veldin had to a shrink.

AJ thought, his face passive. "The closest thing would be something like repression disorder, or the like. I'd need to talk to her to confirm it, though."

Ratchet sipped his seven spice soup, thinking of the way to break the news to Angela about him wanting her to see a doctor. Most likely, she'd throw a fit.


	3. Chapter 3: Freaky Dreams and Talk

Surprisingly, Angela took the news quite well.

"Ratchet, I appreciate your concern. However, I don't need it." Angela said. She attempted a smile.

"Angela, you do need it." Ratchet insisted. "You have a problem."

Angela sighed, exasperated. "No, I don't."

Ratchet stared at her. "Honestly, you woke up screaming like someone was trying to kill you. You need help." He looked at her. "It worries me." he admitted.

Angela nodded. "I understand, but I'm fine. It's just a phase." The way she said it, Ratchet thought, sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

He shook his head. "Don't deny it, Angela. You've got a problem, and it has to be fixed before it becomes worse.."

Angela sighed. "As I said, I appreciate your concern, but I really don't need it."

Clank spoke up. "It may be beneficial for you to just talk to AJ. It wouldn't do any harm."

Angela huffed in defeat. "Fine, I'll talk to him tomorrow." She slumped down. "Now, I need to sleep."

Ratchet yawned. Sleep did sound like a good idea. A very good idea. "Okay," he said, leaving the room. "Sweet dreams," he said.

Flopping down on his couch, he relaxed. Clank sat down, and went to sleep, or whatever robots did, next to him.

* * *

Ratchet hated weird dreams.

In this dream, he sat on a rock, floating in a dark void. He was wearing a tattered pair of jeans. His chest was bared, and, in the dream, a cold breeze would chill him as it passed. He watched as other rocks drifted by.

For some reason, Ratchet looked at his hands. They seemed normal, before threads of gold split from inside his arms, plunging into the rocky surface, seemingly sewing him onto the rock. He tried to get up, but the threads were too strong.

"Help," he moaned, before awakening with a start.

Ratchet grabbed the edge of the couch, then checked his arms. Good, he thought. No evil threads. He patted his forearms, making sure no threads or anything were coming out. He sighed and looked up, wondering why it was a bit brighter.

Angela was sitting in an armchair, reading some scientific book. Or was, before Ratchet awoke. She sighed. "You're having bad dreams too?" she asked.

Ratchet swung his feet under him, sitting instead of lying. "Weirdly, no," he said. "I've had bad dreams before," he said, "and there was always this odd feeling of panic. There wasn't any here."

Angela thought for a moment. She put her book back, and sighed. "Yeah, wish I could say the same."

Ratchet looked at her, his emerald eyes speaking for him. But he spoke anyway. "If you just visited..." he began, before Angela cut him off.

"Drop it."

Those words were uttered with such an air of command that Ratchet shut his mouth. He looked in her silver eyes.

Silver?

Ratchet blinked, and looked again. "That was weird," he said.

"What?" Angela asked.

"Your eyes turned...silver," he said.

A shadow of panic crossed Angela's face, before it was smothered by an impassive, analytical mask. "Must be a trick of the light,"she said. Ratchet didn't know what he saw, but it was no trick of the light.

The question was, what was it?


	4. Chapter 4: Threats and Artifice

_Ratchet_ grabbed the bag and walked over to the post office. Clank was helping Angela do some sort of report for Megacorp, and AJ had called, something about a package for Ratchet. Quickly walking down the path to the post office, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Aj was waiting, sitting on the counter, thumbing through an old book. Upon seeing Ratchet, he hopped off. "Ratchet, good you could make it," he said. He called Ratchet into the back room. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

"We had to search your mail."

Ratchet looked up in confusion. "Why?" he asked. "Did you think I was a terrorist or something?"

AJ shook his head. "No, no, not that." He picked up a package. "We thought it was a bomb. We had to sweep it." AJ handed him the package. "It's clean."

Ratchet looked at him. "Why did you have to tell me?" he asked.

AJ sighed. "Postal System Policy. Besides, there's a Second Class Regulator that hates my guts. If I go a _bit _lax, he'll have my throat." He sighed. "Government. Screwing up anything they can get their hands on."

Ratchet sighed. Opening the box, he stared at the object within. "What is this?" Ratchet asked, pointing at it.

AJ shrugged. "I was hoping you knew."

The both stared at a sphere. Roughly the size of a basketball, it was covered in strange glyphs that seemed vaguely recognizable. "That looks like Lombax writing," Ratchet said. He picked it up and rotated it.

AJ nodded. "Yeah, that looks about right." He sat down. "It reminds me about something I learned about Lombaxes."

Ratchet put the artifact down. "What?" he asked.

AJ slid off the desk. "Apparently, there's a variation of the species that change color when exposed to extreme emotions." He thought for a moment. "I believe they were called _Kala'Tai_. It's a religious term, but the translation's been lost."

"Cool," Ratchet said. He put the box in his bag, and walked away.

* * *

Ratchet awoke again to Angela screaming. Clank popped up, right by the door, and came in, to try to comfort her. Ratchet followed.

Angela wasn't covered in sweat, this time. Instead, she was crying. Ratchet deflated a bit. Now was a bad time to try to push going to AJ. He sat down on the bed next to her and put his arm around her.

They sat there for a while. Ratchet holding Angela, quietly crying next to him. Clank had left, deciding that he wasn't needed. Ratchet didn't say anything. All Angela needed was someone's shoulder to cry on.

When she stopped, he let her go. Angela sighed. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It happens," was all he said. He turned to go.

"Ratchet, could you do me a favor?" Angela asked. Ratchet stopped, and turned around.

"Sure. What?" he asked.

"C...could you stay in here, with me?" Angela asked.

Ratchet cocked an eyebrow. "You want me to sleep with you?"

"No, but, well..." she sighed in frustration. Ratchet chuckled.

"I know what you mean." He sat back on the bed, slipped under the covers, and gave Angela some distance.

It was really unlike her, Ratchet though, for this to be happening. The nightmares must have been really bad. He wondered if he'd ever see the real Angela again. He shifted.

"If," Angela grunted in response to his movement, "you put your hands or anything else on me, I'll rip the anything else off."

Ratchet smiled. Yep, good old Angela.


	5. Chapter 5: A Nightmare Turns into Fun!

Three Days Later

* * *

Ratchet woke up at the same time as Angela. This time, they weren't awoken by Angela screaming. They both had their ears perked, wondering what that slight groaning noise was. Then, it disappeared, being replaced with a hissing sound. Ratchet motioned for Angela to follow him.

He grabbed his wrench and handed Angela a flashlight. Quietly opening the door, they slinked out, wary of any sound.

Angela quickly snapped on the flashlight. All she caught was a flash of motion before a flash of sparks distracted her.

"D*mn," Ratchet swore. He walked over to the fountain of sparks.

"What?" Angela asked.

"My neighbor's still must have broken down," Ratchet said. "Which means he cannibalizes my heater for spare parts." Ratchet sighed. "Tonight's going to be cold."

Angela sighed and shivered, wanting to get out of the cold. She hurried inside, and slipped under the covers. Ratchet walked in, and slipped into his side.

Within two minutes, Angela could see her breath in a cloud. She shivered, and tried to take refuge in the frigid sheets. It was cold. Really cold.

Ratchet leaned over, and slid himself flush against her. He wrapped his arms around her, gently pressing her head into his bare chest. "Now, you'll be warm," he said. Angela wasn't in a mind to complain. He was warm. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. He wrapped the blankets around them,

There's something, Angela thought, about being held. It's the fact that there's someone out there, close to you, that cares enough to have you around, let alone _wants_ you there. It was a primal feeling, she guessed. Being held signified someone was protecting you, was looking out for you. The idea of two people, huddling together, trying to keep safe, to have peace in the middle of a danger-filled night. People crave it.

Angela absentmindedly stroked Ratchet's silky fur. She relaxed, and fell asleep to Ratchet's beating heart, not a care in the world..

* * *

Angela dreamt again.

She was in an abandoned town, the windows empty, the buildings ruins. Not this dream again, she thought, before her dream-self moved forward.

Suddenly, dark ooze began to well up from the ground. Angela remembered from last time the sickly metallic odor of blood. She was past disgusted.

A thumping sound to her left made her turn. Ratchet stood, trapped in a clear tube. He could see her. See what she would be going through. That thought horrified her even worse.

Then, it rose from the blood. A macabre vision of death, ornamented with skulls, it pointed a gnarled and stunted finger at her. "Now, die for your sins!" it shrieked.

With an ear-shattering crack, Ratchet broke free. Pulling a gun from God-knows-where, he shot the thing in the head, blowing it off. As it sank into the receding muck, he stood next to her. "Well, that was odd," he said. He put an arm around Angela, putting the gun walked over to an area not encrusted with blood, and laid down, eyes closed contentedly.

Angela smiled, and sat down next to him. She relaxed, and laid back, next to him.

* * *

**Authors Note: As I wrote in A Legend of Zelda: A Wind of War, I am taking a month-long hiatus for November NaNoWriMo, so, when I get back, I hope you waited for the eventful chapter 6!**


End file.
